Gratitude

a note about art in a few forms

“The essence of all beautiful art, all great art, is gratitude.”

-Friedrich Nietzsche

Dearly Beloveds,

We gather here today to witness Art in the Twenty-First Century! It’s good stuff. I truly believe we are in a renascence of art despite the heaping oppression that capitalism does to the soul.

First, have y’all read a book lately? Holy smokes. I just finished James by Percival Everett. It’s a retelling of The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn from the point of view of Jim¹. (possible spoiler in the footnotes) It stays fairly close to the original plot points of the OG novel for the first half or so before brilliantly diverting into an intense narrative of its own with an ending that is so so righteously earned and satisfying.

I’m really into the idea lately that humans are constantly retelling the same story. We keep the essential characters or soul of the piece and then adapt it to our particular moment in space and time. Sometimes we more closely preserve the first story we heard, and other times the resulting art that is born of the retelling almost lacks any distinguishing features of the first and yet, they are still familial.

We do this outside of literature, too. We do it with fashion. We say the 90s are back, but that’s not entirely true. What is back is a 2020s interpretation of the cusp of the century. I don’t think we’ll ever tire of seeing the silhouette of a nude woman, no matter how many artists paint that subject. In music, we cover songs ad nauseum, or parody them a la Weird Al, or sample the bass line.

One song that I’m listening to too much lately is 7 O’Clock News / Silent Night performed by Phoebe Bridgers and Fiona Apple. It’s a remake of the same song and concept from Simon and Garfunkel in 1966. Both of which vocals are performing a song written in 1816 about a story we’ve been sharing for 2,000 years about Virgin Mary’s miraculous birth, which can be traced with other characters and/or specifics even further back.

It may surprise some folks to find out I’m pretty full of holiday spirit. I’m not religious; I’m not even sure I’m spiritual. But I am an active practicer of humanity. I love our little rituals to get through the dark months. I love pulling a big tree into my house and decorating it with lights and little tchotchkes that remind me of all that I love. I have my pets’ paw prints in clay, and Ruth Bader Ginsberg, and a nod to Levon Helm, and a beaded Santa that I call Key West Santa. There are a lot of tree ornaments because I am absolutely tickled by the idea of decorating a tree with smaller trees. I hang things that I’ve been hanging since I was babe. I have a whole Rory section complete with his photo, a beautiful red glass heart, and a rainbow dick lollipop.

In just a handful of days, I’ll light the first candle on my dinosaur menorah and request my husband make the brisket that tastes like my grandma’s. Also, I made this wreath.

ICE WOULD DEPORT JESUS

I’m pretty in awe of humans, for the most part. Don’t get me wrong, fuck Donald Trump and Pete Hegseth and Clarence Thomas and Karoline Leavitt, and the rest of those implicit in the violences that are being done to this country and worldwide.

We just rewatched Miss Congeniality for the billionth time recently, and it’s totally corny but all the pageant contestants wishing for world peace is actually beautiful. WORLD PEACE. Can you imagine? I really can.

Finally, I had the honor of reading some poetry at Do it For Love’s art party at Beautyland Studio for Open Studios. I’m still carrying the ghost of an ancient man in my foot, so I wasn’t to check out all the studios, but what I saw from my pink crutches was inspiring. Plus, the audience in that special room were some of the best listeners I’ve met in a while.

Here’s a clip:

Peep my very cool “Literary Hat”, a gift from my dad. Who, gentle reminder, has a new poetry collection out, Peering into Infinity Mirrors of Love and Grief, which is available through Codhill Press, or you could ask your favorite local indie bookstore to order you a copy.

Go kindly and bravely.

I love you,

EBG

1. I keep going back and forth about whether to refer to James as Jim or James. By the end of the story, he has quite clearly claimed the new name, James. But I think that’s part of the character development that is so fun to unfold. Even though it’s literally the title. Thoughts?